“Double espresso,” Jack shouted back.

It was funny how eighteen-hour workdays and late-night trial preparation bred such familiarity between coworkers. Sofia was actually carrying on a conversation with him while he was in the bathroom. For all she knew, he was seated on the proverbial throne, yet it didn’t seem to faze her. Not even his ex-wife used to talk to him through the bathroom door, except for that one time. Honey, hurry up, I’m ovulating! As it turned out, the world was probably a better place for his decision to go right ahead and finish that Sports Illustrated article about Dan Marino and his record-setting passing season.

Jack was still staring into the mirror. He looked exhausted, bordering on burnout. Trials were always draining, but few lawyers had ever handled during their career a murder trial in which the stakes were as personal as they were for Jack in this one. Brian was his son, and no matter how much Jack tried to play that down as a mere biological fact, he couldn’t erase it as irrelevant. So what if the law of adoption regarded him as insignificant? It had meaning to him, and so long as it had meaning, it mattered not only whether Lindsey was acquitted or convicted, but also whether she was truly guilty or truly innocent. The trial was nearing an end, and for all the ups and downs, ins and outs, he still didn’t know whom to believe.

And tonight’s session hadn’t helped any.

He splashed cold water on his face, then again took stock of himself in the mirror.

It seemed like light-years ago, but earlier that same evening he’d been on a definite roll. His drug-running theory had finally gelled in his mind, and he was even beginning to believe it. It seemed entirely plausible that Lindsey had been right all along. Her husband had been murdered because he knew the wrong thing about the wrong person. Her theory seemed to fit nicely with his latest thinking that Captain Pintado had uncovered a connection between his Coast Guard source and a drug-smuggling scheme.

Then Lindsey dumped on him all over again.

“There’s something you should know,” Lindsey told him. She was seated on the opposite side of the table, dressed in prison coveralls. Her voice was flat, her expression grave.

“What?” asked Jack.

“There’s a good reason my fingerprint was found on Oscar’s gun.”

“Right. You said it was because you and Oscar had shot the gun previously in target practice.”

She shook her head. “That’s not it.”

Jack had the definite feeling that she was about to tell him something he should have heard much earlier. “All right. Tell me how your print really got there.”

Her shoulders slumped, she looked down at the table. “You know how we’ve talked in the past about how Oscar’s gun was found with the safety on, which meant his death probably wasn’t suicide?”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence, then finally she said quietly, “I was the one who put on the safety.”

Jack kept one eye on the jury as his client passed before the judge and took a seat in the witness stand. He’d been wrong about jurors before, but it didn’t take a mind reader to see that Lindsey had a long way to go with this group.

Lindsey appeared somewhat nervous, which was to be expected, but it didn’t prevent her from capturing exactly the right look. Jack and Sofia had choreographed her image right down to the tiny American flag on the lapel of her navy blue business suit. Sofia had helped with her hair in the rest room, a conservative twist suitable for a single mother. They didn’t want to overdo it with a too-traditional, Laura Ashley-inspired matronly look-that just wasn’t Lindsey-but Jack had definite guidelines. Two-inch heels or less. No cleavage. No flashy jewelry; pearls preferred. Easy on the makeup. Tell the truth.

That last one was his only remaining worry.

“Good morning,” said Jack. “Would you please introduce yourself to the jury?”

“My name is Lindsey Hart. I was married for twelve years to Captain Oscar Pintado, United States Marine Corps.”

“Did you and Captain Pintado have any children?”

“We were unable to conceive, so we adopted a baby boy. Brian is ten years old now.”

“Would you say you were a happy family?”

She hesitated, considering it. “We were at one time. For several years, yes, we were very happy.”

“When did things start to change?”

“When Oscar was transferred to the naval station at Guantánamo. About four years ago.”

“What was it about Guantánamo that had such a negative impact on your family?”

“I don’t think it was anything specific about Guantánamo. Oscar simply started to change.”

“How so?”

“Brian and I seemed to become less important to him.”

“Was there something or someone else who became more important?”

“His friends, I would say.”

“Any friend in particular?”

“Lieutenant Damont Johnson. He was with the Coast Guard. He was Oscar’s best friend.”

“Did you get along with Lieutenant Johnson?”

She averted her eyes. “No. Not in the least.”

“Ms. Hart, you’ve heard testimony about a possible relationship you may have had with your husband’s best friend. Did you have any kind of relationship with Lieutenant Johnson?”

“Yes.”

Jack softened his tone, but it didn’t make the question any easier. “Was that relationship sexual in nature?”

“It was entirely sexual.”

That raised a few eyebrows, including the judge’s. Jack asked, “How long did this relationship go on?”

“Over a six-month period, I’d say.”

“During that period, how often did you have sex with Lieutenant Johnson?”

She lowered her eyes and said, “As often as Oscar told me to.”

If jaw-droppings could make a sound, there would have been a cacophony from the gallery of spectators. Jack let the answer settle upon the jurors, then said, “Tell us about the first time you and Lieutenant Johnson had sex.”

“I’ve never had any recollection of it.”

“You mean you’ve forgotten it?”

“Not in the sense that I once remembered and have now forgotten it. From the day it happened, I’ve never had any memory of it.”

“Were you conscious when it happened?”

“No. I had been drugged.”

“How do you know it occurred?”

“I know my body. I know when I’ve had sex. And if there was any doubt, Oscar showed me the photographs he took.”

“Photographs of you and Lieutenant Johnson having sex?”

“Yes.”

Again, Jack paused. The packed courtroom seemed to take a collective breath. Jack said, “You say you were drugged. How do you know you were drugged?”

“Because one moment I was feeling fine. Then Oscar brought me a glass of wine. I drank just half of it, and I’d never felt like that before. Dizzy, disoriented. Then I passed out. When I woke up, my body felt so strange. The only thing I can compare it to is when I had my appendix out and I came to after the anesthesia. And then…”

“Then what?”

“Then Oscar showed me the photographs.”

“The ones of you and his friend having sex?”

Her eyes were beginning to well. Her voice shook as she said, “Yes.”

Jack gave her a moment to compose herself. “Do you know who gave you the drug?”

“I assume it was-”

“Objection. The witness is clearly speculating.”

“Sustained.”

Jack asked, “Did you drug yourself?”

“No.”

“So someone else gave it to you?”

“Clearly.”

“Do you know what kind of drug it was?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Getting back these photographs of you and Lieutenant Johnson, when your husband showed you those photographs, was Lieutenant Johnson with him?”

“No. It was just Oscar and me.”

“Do you know who took the photographs?”

“All I can say is that when Oscar showed them to me, they were still on his digital camera. They weren’t developed or printed out. He brought them up electronically on the LCD display.”